


The Disappearance of Peter Parker

by Mintstream



Series: My Makeshift Family [1]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Dehumanization, F/F, Father-Son Relationship, Hurt Peter, Hydra (Marvel), Irondad, Kidnapped Peter Parker, Parent Tony Stark, Precious Peter Parker, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Tony Stark Gets a Hug, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, hydra peter, spiderson
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-14
Updated: 2019-05-26
Packaged: 2019-12-30 00:56:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 20,081
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18304898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mintstream/pseuds/Mintstream
Summary: Peter regretted it, not paying more attention to his Spidey Sense, because now he was sitting in a freezing cell, not knowing if his Aunt was alive or dead, if anyone was coming for him, and every inch of him hurting.Aka Peter gets kidnapped by Hydra and is in desperate need of saving





	1. The Shot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "DUCK!!!" he yelled at May, trying to warn her of the oncoming danger.
> 
> Footsteps thundered around him as his senses continued to pound. He heard his Aunt scream that was abruptly muffled as though somebody had shoved something into her mouth. It sent Peter into a panic and he leaped up in desperation to get to his aunt. He jumped up from behind the couch, narrowly avoiding someone dressed in black who reached out in an attempt to grab him. However, there were at least fifty people dressed in black, and more tried to subdue him and grab him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoy, idk if I plan on making this a huge story, it'll probably end up being like, 5 or 6 chapters, but feedback would be awesome!

 

Another prickle ran down Peter's neck, this one more prominent than the last, making his hair stand on end. It was getting unnerving, to say the least. He felt like he was in danger, and he could be, but his sixth sense--Ned had labeled it as his 'Spidey Sense' which he didn't like to much--was often unreliable. It would freak out over the smallest issues and wouldn't even bat an eye or notice bigger threats, like the Vulture. Like how he didn't even notice what he was planning, the pillars going out one by one, the rubble, he couldn't _fucking_ breathe-

"Peter, honey! How about takeout instead? I can't seem to get this risotto to work out."

That's right. He was in his apartment with Aunt May, not stuck in that warehouse, who was attempting to cook a homemade dinner, as she always did. That was their new tradition on Wednesdays. After she had found out about him being Spider-Man she required he take one weekday off, so Wednesday it was, and she always had some kind of special meal planned for them on that day. However, like tonight apparently, they almost always ended up doing takeout. He didn't mind though, it was nice just to spend time with her. The more he thought about their recent tradition the more he felt grounded to the present, not the fight. His breaths soon became even and rhythmic.

"Peter?" his Aunt asked again, peering at him from the kitchen with a concerned gaze. He quickly snapped himself back into reality.

"Sure, that sounds good," he reassured her, "Do you want me to help clean up the kitchen?"

They both took a sweeping look over the messy kitchen, there were pots and pans crowding the sink, the counters were messy with scattered rice and vegetables that hadn't quite made it to the cooking stage. They shared an exasperated look at their mess of cooking skills. Peter offered May a smile as he got off of the couch where he had been picking out a movie before he started freaking out over his senses. Speaking of, it just kept getting stronger and it was overwhelming him. But, he ignored it and walked over to May when she replied with a 'yes please' and went to go order their favorite, Thai.

As she picked up the phone he began to work on the dishes in the sink, deciding it was the most practical place to start. He always liked to get the harder part done first anyway. It was a good distraction too. If he concentrated enough on rubbing off dried food he could _almost_ numb the tingling of his senses now pounding against the base of his skull and tingling up his arms. In a couple minutes May joined him, wiping off the counter, asking about how school was, Decathlon practice, and if anything interesting had happened with Ned or Michelle. He responded in kind and they easily fell back into their comfortable rhythm.

It had been about ten minutes when Peter realized _something_ had to be wrong. There was absolutely no way that his senses would act up like this for so long, and at such an immense pressure. So, now about done with the dishes, Peter listened hard to anything going on within the building, trying to find anything out of place. It seemed busier than normal, but it wasn't too far away from summer break, only a couple of weeks, so it was probably just people traveling. Still, he turned to May.

"Can we turn on the news?" he asked, trying to keep his face unconcerned, he didn't want to worry May. Maybe whatever was wrong was on the news. Unfortunately, his voice cracked.

"Sure, honey. But I still wanna watch _The Sound of Music,_ "  she responded, not noticing--maybe just not acknowledging--the strain in his voice.

Just as Peter picked up the remote his senses gave a final pushing scream before footsteps crowded around his apartment door and smashed it down. In a flash, Peter had jumped to the over the couch for cover.

"DUCK!!!" he yelled at May, trying to warn her of the oncoming danger.

Footsteps thundered around him as his senses continued to pound. He heard his Aunt scream that was abruptly muffled as though somebody had shoved something into her mouth. It sent Peter into a panic and he leaped up in desperation to get to his aunt. He jumped up from behind the couch, narrowly avoiding someone dressed in black who reached out in an attempt to grab him. However, there were at least fifty people dressed in black, and more tried to subdue him and grab him.

Someone grabbed his arm and he threw a punch in their direction, relishing in the crack he heard and rushed on, only managing to make it a few feet before three more intercepted him. He dodged past them and was intercepted by more. And more and more and more. In fact they seem to just keep coming. They circle around him threateningly, closing him in, and more people pile up, effectively trapping him.   _Crap. Crapcrapcrapcrapcrap._ Hands are on him before he can make another move. They swarm over him, pulling his hair, restraining his arms, hitting him and choking him. He continued to struggle, fighting and kicking his attackers.

 _Thwack!_ He finally stilled at the hard punch to his stomach. Tears welled up in his eyes as his arms were fully restrained and he was forced to kneel over.

"Make one more move, Маленький паук, and we will not hesitate to shoot your Aunt over there," growled a low and husky voice. Fear filled his body at the mention of his Aunt. He needed to protect her, she was all he had, but moving could put her in greater danger. Why hadn’t he listened to his senses earlier!!? He looked up from the floor, his eyes wide, and examined who he guessed was the leader of...whoever these guys were. Peter's eyes met another set of brown ones, which stared back icily in response to his defiant expression.

"Who are you assholes anyway?" Peter quipped, not breaking eye contact, keeping all of the attention he could on himself instead of his Anut. The man however, merely chuckled. Though his expression was lost to his mask.

"You will learn soon enough, Маленький паук," the man looked up and said something to his man in a language he thought was maybe Russian, what does Маленький паук mean anyway? "Alright, take him away."

Peter began struggling again, wherever these guys were going take him, he sure as hell was going to put up a fight. The men holding him down pushed against his strength, calling more soldiers to aid in restraining the enhanced teen. Suddenly a muffled cry was heard through his struggling. May was pushed in front of him, shaking all over, and a gag in her mouth. Her glasses were broken and her eyes teary. He immediately stilled at the sight, but began to struggle harder when he recognized the danger, throwing the men off of him and making an effort to stand, even as more men pulled at him.

A gun was pushed against his Aunt's head, the same brown eyes glared down at him again. At his struggle, the man clad in black pushed the gun closer, if that was even possible, to May's head.

"Comply and willingly go with us or things might not go so well for your Aunt here, Маленький паук," he growled out again. Peter immediately stopped moving, he couldn't force himself to relax, but he would force himself to remain as still as fear would allow him for May, "There's a good Spider."

Peter's brain short circuited at the comment, his eyes widening comically. They knew. How could they possibly know? He was always so careful and-

A sharp jab in his shoulder cut him off from his panicked thoughts and he looked down to see a needle being pulled back out from his shoulder. _That's not good..._

A muffled, "Peter!" caught his attention and he turned away from his shoulder to look at his Aunt. He could already feel whatever drug they had given him taking effect as his vision blurred at the edges. Whatever it was, it was effective, even on him, and he immediately lost his balance, falling onto one knee. The world was swirling around him despite his body fighting off whatever had been injected into his bloodstream. Black spots danced around his vision, his hearing became muffled and when he tried to speak he found his tongue felt like lead. He still tried to comfort his Aunt, though.

"I-I love you, May," he muffled out, not knowing if she had heard him or not. Suddenly a gag tightened around his mouth and it was the last thing he remembered before the world went black around him.

The arachnid had finally been overpowered and lay at his feet on the floor. It's Aunt was weeping and shaking all over, clearly stricken by what had just occurred. _Well,_ he thought, _that's what you get when you consort with such animals._ As much as he despised mutants, they were very effective in controlling people, and the one that was being tied up in front of him would be the strongest he had collected yet. But, this brute was defiant, he could tell, and would take a while to break. It would be worth it though, it _would_ however, all go to waste, if word got out it was missing before they even had a chance to escape with it. He turned to the now _very_ angry woman in front of him, who still had a gun to her head, provided by one of his soldiers.

 

"I am very sorry, Mrs. Parker, but that thing you call your nephew is very important to our cause, though I doubt you would agree," he told her icily, watching as her eyes narrowed at him. Where earlier she had been shaking in fear, she now shook in infinite rage. He sighed. Deep down he knew it would come to this, "Thank you for your cooperation, Mrs. Parker."

 

And with that he turned on his heel and followed the rest of his men out the door, not even flinching at the sound of a gunshot ringing through the air. He had the mutant, and that was all he needed.

 

“Hail Hydra,” he murmured to himself triumphantly.

The first thing he noticed when he woke up was the cold. The unbearable, prickling cold. It jabbed at his skin and made his eyes water. Peter blinked away the tears in his eyes. Why _was_ it so cold?  And why was he so uncomfortable? Then it all flooded back. The break in, the injection, May-oh god, May. How would she have gotten out of that situation?

His thoughts were racing, his heart pumping fast, way too fast, he realized with a dim awareness. It took Peter a moment to realize how much he was freaking out, and that if he ever wanted to get out, he would really need to calm down. So, he pushed his anxiety into a box in the back of his mind where he kept all of his other anxieties. Thinking fast, he surveyed where he was for the first time.

He was sitting on an extremely thin and uncomfortable cot that was located in the far left corner of, what he assumed was, his cell(his room?). Whatever it was, it was cold, dark, gray and small, like, extremely small. There were no windows and it was entirely made out of stone, more specifically concrete, he guessed. The only thing that broke out of the smooth stone was the large metal door.

It was gray, like the rest of the cell, but was shinier than anything there. Despite the extreme lack of light he could still pick up a sheen. Wherever he was being held, that door was obviously his only way out. Peter got up gingerly to go examine it but stopped short when he saw something he hadn't registered earlier. A camera. It was small, round, and just barely poked out of the ceiling. Of course whoever had taken him was monitoring him. He didn't particularly like that thought. To be honest though, he didn't really like this entire thing. It was pretty unenjoyable.

 

Okay, so, he was who-knows-where trapped in a cell, considering that the man who had taken him knew he was Spider-Man it was likely reinforced to hold him, with no real way of communicating with Mr. Stark. He also didn't know how long he had been gone, but May had likely already alerted someone that he had been taken(he didn't dare think she hadn't made it). If Peter wanted a plan he was going to have to wait for more information or he would have no way to actually escape.

 

Just as he came to his conclusion the door burst open and five men dressed in black flooded through the door. Four headed straight for Peter, who tried to dodge out of the way, but didn't have enough space to even move a foot. There were two on each arm and they pinned him to the wall harshly, slightly knocking the breath out of him. He struggled against them fruitlessly, more putting up a fight for show and to let these guys know he wasn't giving up.

 

"Your efforts are useless, Маленький паук," rumbled a voice that made him freeze. The wide-eyed teen looked up to see the man who had been in his apartment, though now without his mask. His eyes were a light brown, he was clean shaven and his blond hair was gelled back. He looked extremely normal, and not at all what he imagined his kidnapper to look like.

 

"Who _are_ you?" Peter choked out, trying to keep his fear from his voice, cursing himself when it wavered, "And what do you want?"

 

"Like I said earlier, you will find out soon enough, _Spider-Man,_ " he answered mockingly. Breaking eye contact with Peter, the man nodded at the guards still restraining him. He was then being dragged out by his arms, though he didn't go without kicking and screaming.

 

 _A soft, "Hail Hydra,_ " reached his ears before he was completely removed from the room.


	2. The Realization

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "What is it, Happy?"
> 
> "One of the neighbors saw me trying to get into the apartment and told me they hadn't heard from May or Peter in a couple of days. I asked around a bit more, and...nobody has, heard from them, that is."
> 
> He felt like his heart skipped a few beats. Nobody had heard from them in days. There was no way that could be a coincidence.

 

It had been a stressful week, that was for sure. Meeting after meeting with Ross and UN Officials took a lot out of him, especially with the topic being all the shit he had ever done wrong, all the stuff the  _ Avengers _ had done wrong, and being held solely accountable for all of it. He rubbed his forehead and let out a stressed sigh. God, he was ready for some much needed relaxation time in the lab. So, he put on something more comfortable than his current suit and tie.

 

"Get the specs for Mark 50 up and running, Friday," Tony snapped at his AI, ready to get to work on the complicated the nanotech. It had been proving to be a good challenge recently and was definitely what he needed to unwind.

 

"Yes, boss. But, I would suggest to have some food ready for when Mr. Parker arrives today," his AI responded, making him freeze. Oh shit, it was Friday, more specifically, a Friday lab night with Peter. A warm feeling bubbled in his chest, it would be great to hang out with the kid again, it had been a couple weeks and he had missed the little bugger. So, he changed course and headed to the kitchen instead.

 

"What do you think, Fri? Take out or home cooked meal?" he asked, trying to think of something he could cook without it blowing up in his face.

 

"I would suggest takeout, sir, as Ms. Potts has still banned you from the kitchen after last month's incident," she responded. Tony grumbled a bit under his breath, it hadn't been that big of a deal, he had just forgotten to set a timer for the pizza. Besides, the fire hadn’t been  _ that _ big, he had definitely dealt with way worse ones. But, he heeded Friday's advice and Pepper's rule to stay out of the kitchen and had Friday order some food from Peter's favorite Thai place. 

 

It was 6:40 by the time the food arrived and by then Tony was getting a little antsy, Happy and Peter usually arrived at 6:30, since May insisted Peter go home and do his homework before coming to work with Tony. He rationalized that he was overreacting, that he was just stuck in traffic, but Happy was usually very punctual and called ahead if he was going to be late. Besides, Tony was right to worry since Peter just about gave Tony a heart attack every other day with his lack of self preservation. It was 6:45 by the time he got the call.

 

He was tinkering with the suits schematics, just trying to get it laid out on paper, or well, holograms, when Friday informed him he had an incoming call. He looked at the screen that popped up beside him to see Happy's contact number in his face.  _ Finally, _ he thought, accepting the call.

 

"What's up, Hap? Where's the kid?" he asked, turning away from the screen to highlight a specific part of Mark 50.

 

"He's not here," replied his friend gruffly, causing Tony to turn away from his project.

 

"He's not there?" he echoed.

 

"No, I waited outside the building for a few minutes, I've texted him--no response--and I've gone up to his apartment, but it was locked and no one answered," now  _ that  _ was worrying. What had happened to Peter? His thoughts raced and he forced himself to relax. It was possible the kid had just forgotten, he had done so before, often accidentally going out as Spider-Man for a bit before he remembered or was found by Tony. It still absolutely terrified him every time though.

 

"Okay, I'll track his suit and call him. Keep trying to get in touch with him though, he probably just forgot," Tony assured, not sure if he was trying to convince Happy or himself. Happy ended the call with a dissatisfied grunt, leaving Tony to try and find Peter by his own means.

 

First, he pulled up the suit's tracker. He always had to check and see if Peter had uninstalled it every time he brought the suit in for check-ups, and at this point he was pretty sure Peter removed it the day of just to mess with him. He chuckled fondly at the kid's antics, finally getting to the schematics on the Spider Suit and clicking on the tracker. His face fell immediately.

 

According to his tech Peter was still in the apartment. Ok, so he hadn't gone on patrol. It could be possible he was hanging out with his friends, but then, why was he ignoring Happy? Tony pulled out his own phone and clicked on Peter's contact--Spider Kid--and called him. It rang five times before going to voicemail. So, he tried again. And again. If he wasn’t worried before, he definitely was now, Peter had  _ never  _ ignored his calls before.

 

He then tried to call May and was met with the same result. Something was wrong, very wrong. He was just about to try calling the suit(maybe Peter had really taken out the tracker to do something dangerous) when he got another call from Happy. He answered it as fast as he possibly could.

 

"Anything?" He asked, skipping past 'Hello.'

 

"No communication from the kid still, or May," Happy hesitated, obviously bothered about something.

 

"What is it, Happy?"

 

"One of the neighbors saw me trying to get into the apartment and told me they hadn't heard from May or Peter in a couple of days. I asked around a bit more, and...nobody has, heard from them, that is."

 

He felt like his heart skipped a few beats. Nobody had heard from them in days. There was no way that could be a coincidence.

 

"I'm on my way. Keep trying to get in, keep trying to get information and keep trying to call them," he ordered, getting up and grabbing a set of car keys and a copy of the keys to the Parker Residence.

 

"On it, boss," and with that he ended the call, approaching his one of his less flashy cars and getting in quickly.

 

In no time he was on the road, speeding his way towards Queens. It usually took about 45 minutes to get there but he managed it in less than 30. When he parked the car he wasted no time heading up to the apartment. Foregoing the elevator he ran up the stairs, not slowing down until he reached Peter's floor. He spotted Happy immediately, who was standing outside the apartment jiggling the doorknob while trying to call someone. He looked up from the floor when he heard Tony's footsteps, putting away his phone.

 

"Anything?" Tony asked.

 

"Still no response from Peter and all the neighbors say they haven't seen either of them since Wednesday,"

 

Tony closed his eyes for a few moments and took a deep breath before releasing a stressed sigh. Whatever was happening, or had happened, to the Parkers was definitely bad. He could feel it in the dread in his guts.

 

"Alright then, well his suit's apparently still in the apartment," he informed Happy, putting the key into the doorknob and unlocking the door, "so if anything's happened we should be--"

 

Horror cut him off as the scene unfolded in front of him, the couch was overturned, as were the stools at the kitchen counter. Books were scattered on the floor, some ripped and torn. But worst of all was the body. Next to the couch lay May Parker, sitting in a pool of mostly dried blood. Nonononononononono, this couldn't be happening. He rushed over to the woman, ignoring how the blood stained his pants, and turned her over so he could see her face.

 

She was deathly pale, her limbs stiff and stained in her own blood. But, the most horrifying part was the bullet wound that sat on her forehead. Tony swallowed thickly, ignoring Happy's gasps of horror and sniffling. He hardly took in the sound of the door closing behind him. Not May, how could she be dead? She was always so strong, and who was going to look after Pet--

 

Peter. Oh God,  _ Peter. _

 

He needed to find him. He needed to destroy whoever had done this. Moving to stand up he noticed May's glasses and a piece of cloth stained so red that he would never know what the original color was laying on the floor. He picked both of them up and gently placed the glasses on her face before examining the cloth. Whatever had happened here, it wasn't pretty, and by all the evidence of a struggle, there was no mistake about it. May Parker had been murdered.

 

Tony took a deep breath, feeling as though he were choking on the air. He swallowed thickly, feeling his throat close up, and mopped up a few leaking tears. He would grieve later, first, he needed to find Peter, needed to know if he was alive and keep him safe. What had happened to May was deliberate, and judging by the cloth in his hand, she had been restrained and tied up. What had happened to May could've happened to Peter, it hurt to think about something so terrible happening to people so good. He gathered himself the best he could before turning back to Happy.

 

"Search the apartment, look for-" he choked on his words, scared to say it, "-look for, Peter. An-and any evidence on what happened here."

 

Happy nodded solemnly, eyes still trained on May’s limp form and grief clear on his face, and headed towards the kitchen. Tony's stomach filled with dread as he made his way towards Peter's bedroom, but when he opened the door, everything was normal. In fact, on closer inspection, the rest of the apartment was completely normal, nothing else displayed the horrors that he had just seen in the living room. He was relieved to not find Peter, to not see him dead, laying in a pool of his own blood, a bullet through his head. It didn't take long for a new fear to set in however. Someone had taken his kid, and he had to find him, had to save him.

 

So, for his first act on the investigation, he laid out a holographic device that contained Karen on the kitchen counter.

 

"Karen, I need you to play auditory recordings--visual if you can--of everything you were able to pick up on," he ordered the small chip on the carpet as Happy came to stand beside him.

 

"Yes, Mr. Stark," replied the AI's voice before a slightly muffled 'DUCK' that was unmistakably Peter’s voice played through the chip, and the rest of what Karen had heard was being played throughout the apartment.

  
  


Peter woke up groggily, sore all over, and tired beyond belief. It had been rough since he had been brought to, what he had learned was, the Hydra base. The first day he had been poked and prodded, scientists examining his healing factor and trying to figure out how his Spidey Sense worked. The second had been no better, his skin had been carved into as they took samples of his muscle and blood. His healing had done well in keeping him from being in much pain afterwards, but he hadn't been given much to eat, and it was taking a toll on him. He had also been given a  _ collar _ (a fucking collar), which shocked him when he tried to fight back. He felt violated, it made him feel like an  _ animal. _ And it sucked balls.

 

It was pitch black in his cell and even his sensitive eyes couldn't make out anything around him, nothing was apparent to him about his surroundings except for the bone chilling cold. Peter was shivering violently, due to his clothes being thin, as it had been warm in New York when he was kidnapped, and his lack of ability to thermoregulate. Some spider stuff seriously sucked.

 

With nothing better to do Peter tried to go back to sleep, he always healed better when he was sleeping, but couldn't settle back down, so instead pondered on escape. He had only been to two rooms in the base at this point. All he had mapped out were his room and how to go down the hallway to the  _ Experimentation Room _ , which wasn't exactly where he wanted to end up. If he wanted to get out of here by himself, he'd need a bit more time to figure out the layout of the building. But he was confident Mr. Stark would get to him before he would even manage to get out by himself, all he needed to do was be patient and wait. He'd get out of this hellhole eventually.

 

Without warning the door to his room burst open, the usual guards took up their place by the door to keep Peter from escaping, who had moved to sit up. He knew what was going to happen next.

 

"Rise and shine, Маленький паук, you have a big day in front of you,” Annoying Blond Guy(as he had started calling him internally) said, turning back to his men, “Lots to discover about our new pet today, gentlemen." 

  
Peter quickly dropped his gaze as a pit dropped in his stomach, having learned to not make eye contact on the first day after having the absolute  _ shit _ beat out at him after he made one wrong move. Whatever was happening today that had Annoying Blond Guy so excited was not going to go well for Peter.

 


	3. The Invisible Horrors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Eight seconds in Pete, that's all," the man had said to him reassuringly, keeping a firm grip on Peter's shoulder.
> 
> Eight seconds in, he repeated to himself, drawing in a large breath, eight seconds out. Peter continued this pattern until, achingly slowly, his breathing returned to normal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, well, I apologize for how long this is and how shitty the fight scene probably is(idk how to write them). But, I hope you enjoy and I enjoy feedback and I love to hear what everybody thinks in the comment section! So enjoy my dudes!

Saying Tony was worried was the understatement of the century. Frantic and constantly on the brink of an anxiety attack didn't even  _ begin _ to cover how shitty his current state had been recently. And he refused to do anything about it, he refused to sleep, eat or do anything that had to do with the business. Not until he found Peter, not until he was safe, not until Tony could protect him. And, by how well it had all been going recently, he was sure to be searching for months. Peter had been gone for over a week, ten days exactly, and Tony had nothing. Had  _ done _ nothing.

 

The genius had been at it, pulling just about every string he could, trying to find the kid. He had gotten straight to work after going through the auditory footage provided to him by Karen, listening to it over and over again, trying to pick out something he may have missed after listening to it for the gzillionth time. The only breaks he had taken were when he passed out from exhaustion or fatigue and when he had helped Happy work on getting May's funeral postponed, because dammit, when he got his kid back he will not have missed his Aunt's funeral. But, the chances were looking pretty slim that they would get him back soon, much less at all.

 

Whoever had planned this had been thorough and was obviously well versed in  what they were doing. He had tried to find security footage, to try and see what suspicious characters might have been in the apartment building, but the footage had been wiped and placed on a loop. He had had Friday hack into cameras all around the city, running facial recognition for Peter. The only thing that Tony had was the recording and the admission from a few of the building's occupants that they had seen a lot of people dressed in black spread throughout the building before they all disappeared.

 

For a second Tony considered the burner phone that was forever in his pocket. The thought was dismissed almost as soon as it had appeared. Sure, he always had the phone on him, but that was to ease his worries, and there was no way Steve could possibly find where Peter had been taken. He may have a lot of skill, but there had been nothing. No fingerprints, no names, no faces. There was nothing. And not even the great Captain America could solve a case based on nothing.

 

God, he needed a drink. He needed to sleep, he needed food, he needed  _ Peter. _ And that instinct kicked every other longing he had out, he didn't leave the spot where he had positioned himself in the lab a week ago, he didn't look away from the screen. He critically analyzed the loop that had replaced the real footage on that Wednesday, searching for a break, an error, he could use to pick apart everything else. But, it stayed whole and steady. It didn't deter him though, he stared at it for another hour before listening to the recordings again, when he had focused on that  for however long he moved back on to the interviews Happy had conducted, trying to figure out what had happened that day.

 

When Pepper found him, hours later, passed out after having held himself upright the past few days from sheer determination and desperation she merely sighed. She had also been wearing herself thin with worry about her fiance's mentee. She had brought the case of Peter Parker's disappearance to the police, had made sure his friends knew what had happened and had protection and kept up with making sure everything illegal Tony had done looking for Peter had been covered up. In fact, everyone was participating.

 

Rhodey had been doing detective and interrogative work, calling in friends and favors, doing everything he could to try and get Tony to eat. Happy had been overseeing funeral arrangements, protection for Michelle Jones and Ned Leeds, and having his security team on the case. However long it took to find this boy who had wormed his way into their lives, it would all be worth it to see him again.

  
  


Pain was all he felt. Hot, sweltering pain. It ripped through him, setting his body on fire, tearing apart his throat and clawing at his head. He was dully aware of someone screaming, all he could focus on was the agony, his body spasming in response. And all at once it stopped, leaving him him trembling.

 

Voices shivered around him, cold, chilling voices that caused shivers to run up his spine and made him want to do nothing more than run. Run straight to May.

 

But everything was dark, dark as Peter had never seen it. It seemed to engulf him, making him feel pressed down onto himself even though he felt as though he was without a body and didn't truly exist. Yet, if he didn't exist, why was everything so cold and why was he in  _ so much pain. _ It felt like he had been beaten senseless and torn apart at the seams. At this point he didn't feel like he was even human anymore and he couldn't. Stop. Shaking.

 

The dark around him rippled from his violent trembling, and as though he were a bomb, it vanished from sight only to be replaced by men. Now hundreds, maybe thousands, of men dressed in black combat gear surrounded him. His breath caught and his heart pumped faster out of fear as they slurred insult after insult after him.

 

"DOG!!" they chanted, "MONGREL!!" they screamed until every dehumanizing term had been thrown at the boy, until every single voice thundered around him and froze him in place. 

 

His breathing continued to shorten, getting even more uneven and spotty, until he could no longer take in a breath. As he found he couldn't breathe at all anymore, all the men charged him, stomping now aiding their screams. They were all thundering towards him; closer and closer and closer and clos-

 

Peter collided with the ground, knocking what little breath he had out of him. He gasped in fear and pain as his shoulder hit the ground, feeling the wound reopen. It had all been a dream. It had all been a dream. _ It had all been a dream. _ The terrified boy tried to calm himself down, burrowing his hand into the ground, relishing at the cold, and forcing himself to take one deep breath after another, though the collar clamped around his throat made it more difficult than necessary. He vaguely remembered what Mr. Stark had taught him after he had had a panic attack after a night at the Compound. 

 

_ "Eight seconds in Pete, that's all, _ " the man had said to him reassuringly, keeping a firm grip on Peter's shoulder. 

 

_ Eight seconds in, _ he repeated to himself, drawing in a large breath,  _ eight seconds out. _ Peter continued this pattern until, achingly slowly, his breathing returned to normal. He tried to close his eyes to aid in calming down, he had read somewhere about how it helped, but every time he did, all he saw were the faces of his captors, he could hear the insults that had steadily been wearing him down, he could remember the pain he had felt the day they hooked him up to that machine that he  _ never _ wanted to go near again. Luckily for him though, he still had his memories, but it had still hurt like hell.

 

Maybe once he got out he'd put time into trying to figure out why that memory wiper machine hadn't worked on him(he assumed his healing factor repaired everything in his brain before it could really be broken), though he really just wanted to leave this wretched place and forget the whole experience. He just wanted to hug May again, to bury his face into her hair, to smell her comforting perfume that was always mixed with a faint burnt smell. Peter was just ready to finally feel safe again, to bury himself in his family's arms(as much as he felt like a baby for admitting it, even if it was just to himself) and be held by May and Tony. Because if he was being honest, they had all become a makeshift family over the past five months since the Homecoming incident.

 

Peter's eyes watered at the thought and he tried to summon the determination to move from where he was sitting on the floor, but couldn't find it in himself to want to climb back onto the cot. The cot had progressively gotten dirtier and bloodier since he had been placed in the cell, and Peter, much like for the rest of his situation, couldn't do anything about it. He had only been given the relief of a shower once over the course of...ten days? Yeah, he's pretty sure it had been ten days. 

 

Since he had only had a shower once, all of his blood and sweat after 'surgeries', battles with failed enhanced experiments and beatings from acting out or breaking one of Annoying Blond Guy's rules(whose name he had learned was Filip, but he continued to refer to him as Annoying Blond Guy) had all been gathering on his cot, which he now deemed to be to unfit to lay in. And so, if he wanted to steer clear of infection, Peter would now have to find a corner to curl up in. So  _ tha _ t was going to be fun. Sleeping on stone. It occurred to Peter that he was still bleeding after reopening his wound from falling off the cot.  _ Great, _ Peter thought, annoyed,  _ just add it to the list of all the other shit things about this place. _

 

Since Peter didn't know long he had until his space was invaded and he was taken away to fill out these people's needs again, he just laid where he was, not bothering to try and get into a more comfortable spot. He was right not to, because it had only been a few minutes before he could manage to hear people approaching his room. After a while he had gotten used to how soundproofed the room was and had trained himself to be able to detect vibrations and go from there so he could always have a warning. So, he wasn't caught off guard when the usual entourage entered the room, two breaking away and heading straight for his limp figure on the floor.

 

"Up," came the hoarse voice of one of the guards above him.

 

Peter didn't dare look at him. He crawled onto all fours and forced himself to stand up, every bone in his body aching and protesting after his rough night. Apparently he hadn't been fast enough because he was hit harshly with a metal baton, resulting in him falling back onto the ground. The boy muffled his pained whimper and sucked in his tears, just resuming his effort to get up, this time going faster so as to avoid from being hit again. Once he was up he was escorted out of the cell by the rest of the guards. They all referred to him as 'It' and 'The Subject' on the way to the day’s activity, which Peter tried desperately to not let get to him, though he was pretty sure he was failing.

 

It took Peter a moment to realize which room he was being taken to today. And he was not up for it. Dread built up in him with every step, wishing vehemently against it. He was being taken to the Sparring Room, though he didn't think he would count it as sparring. It was more like the ‘ _ let's see how long these two mutants can survive without passing out or dying’ _ Room _. _ It was honestly the worst, and Peter would almost take the brain washing machine over it. Almost.

 

When they reached the room Peter forced his panic out and instead took up mentally preparing himself for the fight instead. He had only sparred in this room once and his shoulder was  _ still _ healing. In fact, it was bleeding at the moment. He briefly wondered if he was going to be fighting the same person he had last time, a middle aged woman who could create copies of herself and was obviously a bit off of her rocker, but he reasoned that with how big the base was there was probably more captives than just him and her. 

 

Peter was forced towards a door that led to a room that  _ then _ led into the arena, being pushed in roughly by the guards. All of the sudden it was dark again and he had to blink several times to get used to it, having just gotten used to the bright florescent lights in the hallway. He had already been in here before so he didn't waste his time having a look around, instead he got to work on trying to fix his shoulder now that he knew he was going to be fighting someone. He had to pull off the shirt he had been given(after his old clothes had been torn to shreds) to get a good look at it, since it was long sleeved. It was proving rather difficult though with his collar, but he eventually got it off.

 

It hurt to try and get a good look at it, but he could see it wasn't too bad. The muscles that had been torn about three days ago had healed, though it was still stiff and caused him a lot of discomfort. Most of the injury seemed to be skin deep, so it was bleeding a good bit, but the damage wasn't bad. For a moment he considered tearing off one of his sleeves so he could wrap it around his shoulder, but ultimately decided against it. He could very easily be punished for that, which he would like to avoid, and it would be seen as a weak spot to the enemy. So, he roughly pulled the shirt back over his head, pushing it past his collar, and stood in front of the door to the arena, just ready to get it over with.

 

It was only about thirty seconds before the door swung open slowly, Peter waited impatiently, trying to see his opponent. However, once the door had fully opened and he had stepped into the arena he still couldn't see them. He swung his head around wildly, trying to find someone in the large metal and stone cube. It wasn't until his spidey sense flared and he jumped high into the air, landing on one of the observers' windows did he realize. His opponent was invisible.  _ Oh you gotta be kidding me _ .

 

Today's fight was going to be a fight of the senses then. Peter took a deep breath and jumped away from the window onto the ceiling, he had a feeling his opponent couldn't climb walls like him. The brunette closed his eyes and closed his ears to anything outside of the walls. He felt for vibrations, listened for breathing and a heartbeat.  _ Now I'm like an actual spider _ , he thought dryly, remembering reading an article on how a spider catches their prey. It didn't take long for him to pinpoint the person using this method, but deciphering how to actually attack them was tricky.

 

He stalled for a bit longer, waiting for them to come to him. He could almost feel their impatience as they paced in a large circle underneath him.  _ Just a bit closer, come on... _ And as though someone had heard him they walked almost exactly underneath. Without hesitation Peter dropped from the ceiling and threw a well aimed punch. He felt his fist make contact with muscle, a shoulder or chest probably. What was interesting about it was once he made contact the mirage shattered. As though they were from a movie, the illusion bubbled away. For a single moment they made eye contact.

 

As quickly as the person had come, they disappeared. It gave Peter enough though. They were a man, tall and relatively young, but most importantly his left forearm was injured, in fact it was bleeding. It was a weak point he could exploit, as much as he hated to admit it.

 

Peter was snapped from his analyzing when instinct took hold and he flipped away from an oncoming attack. The man came at him again, launching a hit that he sensed coming, the hairs on the back of his neck standing up against his bulky collar. He nimbly reached out with his hands and caught his leg. With his own he aimed a kick at the guy's chest, keeping a firm hold on the leg. If he wanted to win, to stay as safe as possible, he would have to keep the man near him so that his invisibility would be almost useless.

 

Just like earlier the facade broke and he was staring at the Asian man again, though he was quick to fire his own punch at Peter's face. But Peter didn’t dare to let go of the man's leg even if he couldn’t maneuver his head enough to properly dodge it. The punch sent his way knocked the guy off balance though, which Peter took full advantage of.

 

He grabbed the right arm, accounting for the fact that he couldn't fight effectively with his left, and twisted it. He gained a frightened glance in response that dissolved in a heartbeat. Now Peter couldn't see him again, but he had him in his grasp and so things were going to be much easier. He launched punch after punch at him, centering them at the chest, taking the feeble punches he got in return. He didn't let go until a strong kicked landed on his knee. He was knocked onto the ground and he lost his hold on the man's hand in the effort to try and retain his balance.

 

Peter twisted gracefully, barely skimming the ground and leaping onto the opposing wall. He was barely expecting it when a hard punch connected with his face a few seconds later. He scolded himself for staying low enough on the wall to be hit and reacted by leaping out, giving his best aim as to where he guessed his opponent was. Unluckily, he barely nicked him. 

 

Peter skidded across the smooth metal ground, letting himself come to a stop slowly, he needed for Invisible Guy to come to him. It didn't take long and he felt the punch coming a hundred yards away. He moved to the left to avoid it but was tripped by a foot. Peter ate shit colliding with the ground, and hadn't been given the chance to regain his bearings as fists reigned down on to his exposed back. He took a couple of strong kicks and punches before he managed to land a blow of his own.

 

And so it went on, kick after kick, hit after hit, each getting in their own moves. Peter had a busted lip, a bloody nose and a twisted ankle that he would have to fix later. And though he couldn't see him, Peter could tell that Invisible Guy was faring way worse. When the match was ended by the screech of the bell ringing overhead, Peter was thoroughly beaten, bloody and bruised. Then the man released Peter's leg and showed himself as guards gathered at each door.

 

Peter was shocked to see just what a bloody mess he had made of the man and immediately felt terrible at the harm he had caused. He couldn't dwell on it though. His guards came up to him and attached a chain to his collar, that Peter briefly thought about fighting against before giving up the futile attempt. And before he knew it he was back in his own cell, cradling his injuries and doing his best to care for his aching body.

 

_ What was taking Mr. Stark so long? _


	4. The Known Strangers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What? Where-how-?!!
> 
> Peter was still struggling to comprehend what was happening when Filip spoke.
> 
> "So the experiment worked? Good to know, Маленький паук," he drawled out, his eyes darting around as though he were looking for Peter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...this chapter is long and super wacky. I-I didn't mean for it to go this way, but I thought Invisible Guy was cool and I love Miles Morales and I got really caught on this one idea so...let me know if it's trash or not, I think it is, but I tried I guess.

The days after his brawl with Invisible Guy were some of the best he had had in days, possibly weeks. Either they were bored with Peter or something else had contracted his captors' attention, because he was left alone in his cell for two days. Whenever anyone came to his cell it was to give him food and water and to occasionally escort him to one of the place's bathrooms. All in all it was pure bliss compared to the past couple of weeks. He should've known it was only the calm before the storm.

 

Peter hadn't moved much since he had been deposited in his cell, preferring to just try and rest as much as he could, even if he was having trouble sleeping. Every time he fell asleep he was plagued with nightmares, most nonsensical, but still enough to leave him in a cold sweat and desperately gasping for breath. So at the moment he was laying on his back in the corner in his room farthest from the door, just trying to calm down from the latest horrors his brain had come up with. He was so preoccupied with controlling his breathing that he didn't notice the footsteps approaching his door until it was too late.

 

They opened the door leisurely, spotting him in the corner and making a beeline for him. His breath hitched and he flinched at the sight of the chains that they used to attach to his collar like a leash, but otherwise stayed obediently still. When the harsh voice yelled at him something in Russian Peter didn't hesitate to scramble up, keeping his head bowed. He had learned a couple of words in Russian since he had arrived and had recognized what was said to him to mean, 'Up.'

 

Once the leash was attached to his collar, he was led out of his room, his leash being yanked harshly by the man holding the other end, causing him to stumble and choking him. Peter was quick to right his balance and rush to keep up with the man so as to keep from being choked anymore. More guards wearing their black armor and sporting the same red octopus that had been stamped onto the shirt Peter was wearing, only bigger, took up spots around him. Effectively creating a large circle that kept Peter in and took up most of the hallway. The immensity of the place never failed to astonish Peter, who had only seen a fraction of it and knew it held a surplus of secrets he wouldn't even begin to understand.

 

But what he did understand was just how dangerous these people were and how desperate he was to escape from their grasp. He was never given the slightest chance though, he was constantly monitored and everything they used to hold him was reinforced specially for him. His chances of escape were slim to nothing, and the constant reminders never failed to drag him down and make him feel as though he were sinking. He was so caught up in his thoughts he didn't even register where they were taking him.

 

His Spidey Senses flared threateningly and so he took a fleeting glance upward, doing a double take when he recognized the room number.  _ NO, nonononononono! NO! _ Peter stopped walking and helplessly strained against the collar and leash, trying to run backwards, but was intercepted by even more Hydra soldiers. They had guns and rectangular metal shields to trap him in, but his pure panic fought through any kind of rationalization that he was trapped and he continued to struggle, lashing out at anyone who came to close. Peter refused to back down, utterly terrified at what was waiting for him in the  _ Experimentation Room _ .

 

Suddenly he was on the ground, spasming and huddled in on himself as pain coursed through him, coming from a spot on his back. The edges of his sight became blurry as the pain increased its intensity, and he was dimly aware of his voice straining against the pain. Spots danced around his vision when it finally stopped, and feeling seemed to leave his body. His head lolled when he was picked up by the armpits and carried the rest of the way into the room he dreaded more than anything else.

 

The brunette was laid onto a metal table, one he was achingly familiar with. His wrists and ankles were chained up and his leash was removed, but other than that nothing around him made sense anymore. The weeks of pain and lack of food had finally caught up to him. Everything was blurry, reminding him of when he still needed glasses, and it wasn't long before everything went completely black.

 

The spider had struggled against being taken into room 3C, which made Filip frown. It was still resisting, and he had been trying hard to break it. The lack of contact, derogatory terms, extreme violence, leashes...the list went on. Yet it refused to bow down, not completely anyway. He let out a sigh, rubbing his eyes. Everything would be so much easier if the Memory Suppressing Machine worked on the little brat, but it hadn't, it had failed them for the first time ever. It had worked on the four other enhanceds he had collected, one of which had died yesterday.

 

Subject 003 had died after being at the base for eight months and Filip had immediately set to making sure its body parts and enhancements were not lost. He had set his scientists on the body to try and preserve the powers of invisibility 003 had possessed. They had only been somewhat successful. Dr. Bard had managed to collect 003's abilities into a formula that could be given to someone else, but it would only last a few days and there was a high likelihood that it would kill whoever they injected it with, so he had made the best decision he could come up with, not wanting to lose the valuable asset that invisibility would bring to Hydra.

 

"Are you sure about this, Commander Ivanov? 005 is not a complying soldier," Dr. Bard warned him, coming to stand beside him as they watched 005 be strapped down to a metal table.

 

"It may not be, but 005 is possibly the only thing in our base that could survive the formula's effects," he replied coolly, turning to look at her, "And everything breaks eventually, it's only a matter of time before our Маленький паук does too."

 

Dr. Bard gave him a nod, still looking uncertain as she gazed at their newest recruit. But, under her hesitance and exhaustion(no doubt from staying up all night creating the invisibility formula), he could make out an excited glimmer at her being able to test something so undone. Before he could say another word she pulled her curly red hair into a tight bun, pushed her glasses further onto her face and marched over to the purple formula resting in an IV bag, clearly finishing up a few last checks for the experiment. In only a few minutes everything was ready to commence.

 

"Shall I begin, Commander Ivanov?" asked Dr. Bard, turning away from 005 to make eye contact with him. Her green eyes were startling defiant, and it was obvious she wasn't really asking. He nodded anyway.

 

Dr. Bard turned to one of her assistants sharply, "Needle," she demanded. The nurse handed her the thin needle that was connected to the IV filled with the purple formula that vaguely reminded him of blood. "Injecting the formula," she informed, following standard procedure to announce her movements to the room. The red head pushed the needle into 005's upturned wrist, breaking through the skin. Once she had it in fully she made a double check that the fluid was traveling through the tube correctly and that everything was in order.

 

Was that it? He had expected something more complicated, possibly more painful or grand.

 

"It'll be able to turn invisible once that's done now?" Filip demanded, looking over his most important captive anxiously. Dr. Bard shook her head in mock amusement.

 

"No, that remains to be seen," she responded in her soft, cold voice, "I've simply administered the means for him to gain that ability. It'll take a little bit for the IV to get all the formula into its bloodstream and for its body to accept the new DNA."

 

"So it'll just...lay there?"

 

"I don't doubt 005 will be in a lot of pain, and it might try and break free in response to the foreign substance in its body, but essentially, yes,"she clarified. Filip nodded in confirmation, moving to leave the room.

 

"You are free to take a rest, Dr. Bard. I'm sure you are exhausted," she nodded in acknowledgement and he left the room completely. "I want two guards stationed outside this room at all times, and two at each hallway!" he ordered harshly in Russian to the group of guards positioned outside Room 3C. And without another word Filip left to go and retreat into his office, he would really need to learn how to keep 005 under control if he just kept giving it superpower after superpower.

 

Just a few hours later, as he sat drawing up plans and ideas the lights flashed a threatening red and the alarms blared. The speakers in his room screeched as a panicked voice sounded over the intercom.

 

_ "We are under attack. The North, West and South corridors of the base have been infiltr--" _ and it devolved into static.

 

Everything burned. Everything was on fire. The intensity of the scorching heat blocked out any comprehensive thought until all he knew was blistering pain. His skin felt like it was melding to the table under it and his surroundings were completely unknown to him. Peter tried to open his eyes but found that he couldn't seem to control any part of his body. All he could do was lay down(was he laying down? He thought he was), shake and wish on everything he did and didn't believe in to make it stop.

 

And so it went on for hours, or maybe just seconds. The pain, the shaking, the helplessness, the waiting, the waiting for it to just  _ stop _ , until all of the sudden, it did. The pain--the blinding pain at least--faded out of existence, leaving him sore and sweaty all over, but finally able to steal a steady breath and take in the room around him.

 

What he found was that it was loud and bright. There was a single light in the room but it was red and flashing, from some speakers there was the sound of static, as though a radio had been broken, coupled with the amplified sounds of footsteps pounding around the base. And he could physically feel  _ all of it. _ Sometimes Peter thought his powers were more a curse than anything.

 

In a panic he tried to sit up, but found that his arms were tightly bound to the table he was sitting on. Wait--table? And just like that it all flooded back to him, the extraction from his cell, his struggle, the taser and eventually passing out, though that part was admittedly fuzzy. Though maybe it would be easier to think if everything wasn't so overwhelmingly bright and loud. Why was it even like that? Had someone broken out or...?

 

Peter froze as his mind began to clear, finally able to process the world around him. Whatever was happening, it was his best chance at escape. It was risky, he didn't know if he could actually make it out(or where he would go if he did, he didn't even know what country he was in) and the consequences were high if he were caught, but...he wanted--he  _ needed _ \--to leave the horrid place. His gaze hardened and his eyes narrowed in determination. There was no going back now, and when Peter put his mind to something, he couldn't be discouraged.

 

First things first, he needed to bust out of his restraints. He guessed that whatever they were that they were strong, but he was pissed and determined to leave, so here goes nothing. He pounded his right wrist up into the binds, the metal reverberating. It was denting--but it wasn't enough. He went harder, gritting his teeth as he felt skin break underneath the strain. What even was this shit made out of? He could lift literal  _ tons _ off of him!

 

With one last final push the metal snapped cleanly in half. Peter tried to sit up again, it was better than last time but it was still a struggle, and reached over for the cuff holding his left hand. It was then that he noticed that something was sticking out of his arm. A needle. He  _ hated _ needles. Without a second glance he tore it out and reached to break the rest of his cuffs, it proving to be much easier now that he could pull at them instead of having to strain at one.

 

When he was finally free of his mini prison he took another look at the needle.

 

In disgust he realized that the needle had been hooked up to an IV that seemed as though it had held some kind of purple liquid, if the stains to the bag were anything to go by. His stomach churned as he wondered what had been injected into him, but he pushed his anxieties to the back of his mind. His focus had to be completely on getting out, he could worry afterwards, tell Mr. Stark about it, and May would help him get through it all.

 

With a newfound determination at the thought of being able to see May again he took a wobbly step off of the table and slowly moved over to the door. Before he went to open it though, he closed his eyes, sending out his ears to listen for anybody around him. The commotion throughout the entire base were making it difficult to distinguish individuals, but not impossible.

 

At what he thought was the end of the hallway he heard a lot of scuffling and mechanical whirring. It took a couple of minutes, but eventually heard about six thumps. He thought, with a twinge of fear, that they were probably bodies dropping to the ground.

 

Amidst the commotion he realized that there was now a set of footsteps running down the hallway towards his door. In a jolt of fear he jumped back towards the bed, getting into a fighting stance and listening intensely to the stranger outside the door. Whoever it was, they were right outside his door, and Peter realized with a jolt that they were talking. From the static he could vaguely make out over the louder one wailing through the base they were talking over a com. The brunette strained his ears ever so slightly so as to make out their words.

 

"--floor is clear. Wished I could've covered a different one though, the security on this one was absolutely insane. No I'm not complaining! Just letting you know through my  _ astute _ detective skills that whatever is on this floor is probably important. Yeah...uh huh. Well, I've only got a couple of rooms to explore and then it's been completely covered, and can someone  _ please _ turn off the alarm system!? It's driving me mad," said a deep snarky voice that Peter recognized, though he couldn't place from where. He could tell from what he had learned from the one sided conversation that the man was clearly an enemy of Hydra. Though that didn't necessarily make him Peter's friend. He readjusted his stance in preparation, only having a heartbeat to do so before the door was kicked open.

 

His heart skipped a beat.

 

In front of him was  _ Falcon _ . Peter was now frozen in absolute shock, of all the outcomes he had pictured, this certainly wasn't one of them. But at least he knew where he recognized the voice from though. At the sight of him, Sam Wilson lowered his weapons and studied him for a moment, confusion written all over his face.

 

Despite recognizing the man as an Avenger--or a former one--a protector of the Earth, Peter didn't lower his raised arms. He never let his guard down anymore, he had learned that the first day in. For a few seconds, all they did was stare at each other in confusion and apprehension, before Sam put his weapons by his sides and sheathed his wings. Peter still didn't let down his defensive stature.

 

"Are you with Hydra? Oh um...do you speak English?" he asked quickly, clearly trying to grab at some understanding of the situation.

 

It took Peter a moment to respond, no one had asked him anything in a while, or looked at him like he wasn't the worst thing on Earth with the utmost look of disgust on their face.

 

"I-I can speak English," he responded cautiously, "And...no. I'm-I'm not with Hydra."

 

Mr. Wilson didn't look surprised, it probably had to do with the collar and his ragged state. He just gave an encouraging nod.

 

"Do you want to leave?"

 

Peter's breath hitched. Was this finally happening? Could he really leave? Could he see his Aunt again? Mr. Stark? Ned? Michelle?

 

He was so caught up in his thoughts that he forgot to give Falcon an answer.

 

"Kid? Do you wanna leave?"

 

"Y-yes! Yes. I wanna leave...please," he added on as an afterthought.

 

"Alright then. Just follow me, I'll keep you safe, okay?"

 

Peter nodded vigorously, reluctantly dropping his hands to his side but remaining on guard nonetheless. Mr. Wilson motioned him towards the door and Peter obliged slowly. He had taken the man down before, he could probably do it again if he tried anything, but not without taking some hits. And besides, Peter was tired of all the fighting, he just wanted to rest. So if he could keep fighting to a minimum, it would be great. They began walking down the hallway, Mr. Wilson taking up the rear.

 

"I've found a captive," the Avenger said into his earpiece, "He's young. Definitively needs medical care. Anything on your end? Alright, meet you at the rendezvous point," he finished up his conversation and Peter could feel his eyes on his back.

 

"What's your name, kid?" Falcon asked. Peter hesitated for a moment, but decided it wasn't that big of a deal.

 

"Peter," he responded delicately, his voice hoarse, "Parker."

 

"How old are you?"

 

"15," he responded again. The questions went on for a bit, just basic ice breakers that were probably meant to make Peter feel more comfortable, which, they kind of were, but he felt like he was being interrogated a little.

 

When they finally reached the stairs and were turning to head up, Peter remembered the machine in the basement. He couldn't stand the idea of just, leaving it there, completely untouched and ready for reuse whenever anybody wanted to use it. And even though it hadn't worked on him, he knew the other subjects had been under its influence, and that it had been used to great effect on the Winter Soldier too. It needed to be destroyed.

 

"Wait," he said, making Mr. Wilson pause, "There's a-there's a machine downstairs. A memory wiper thing," at that he saw confusion cross the Falcon's face, "They-they've been using it on a couple of other c-captives around here and--"

 

His breathing was picking up as he remembered his experience down in the dreary room, his head feeling like it was being split into two. He felt a hand reach for his shoulder and he immediately flinched away, stumbling over himself to get away from hands, the prying hands that hit and jabbed and prodded and-

 

"Kid! Peter! It's alright. It's all good, one of my friends found it and destroyed it already, okay?" Mr. Wilson's voice reassured, breaking through his panic attack. Peter nodded and forced himself to take a deep breath and push back tears, just like he had been doing for the past couple of weeks. "Alright. See? We're all good. Now I'm going to get you back to your home, okay ki--"

 

Peter's senses screeched and Peter pushed Falcon to the ground just as a shot rang out, feeling a strange tingle that corresponded with his Spidey Sense. They both landed on the ground harshly, Peter recovering more quickly. When he looked up he made eye contact with Annoying Blond Guy, or well Filip Ivaov. He was bleeding from a cut on his head and lips, and holding a small gun in front of him. Peter froze up in fear, but as soon as he did, shock crossed Filip's face.

 

"What the hell?" exclaimed Mr. Wilson from behind him, who had already gotten up.

 

Peter was confused as to what was so shocking, but was too concerned with his life to try and figure it out. He brought his fists up in a defensive stance, only to find that he could no longer see them.

 

_ What? Where-how-?!! _

 

Peter was still struggling to comprehend what was happening when Filip spoke.

 

"So the experiment worked? Good to know, Маленький паук," he drawled out, his eyes darting around as though he were looking for Peter.

 

And that's when it hit. Experiment, fight against an invisible man, mysterious formula injected into his bloodstream. They had given him Invisible Guy's powers! So now  _ on top of _ his Spidey Powers, he had now been experimented on and biologically enhanced even more. Peter felt sick to his stomach, and just as the realization fully occurred to him, his illusion fell and Filip trained his eyes back onto him again.  _ Oh great. _

 

Before either could make any moves to attack the other Falcon pushed himself in front of Peter, pulling out his guns and spreading into a defensive stance. Peter was pushed behind him as the wings spread, blocking Filip from the door and the stairs up, which left only one escape route, down. Or maybe not an escape, but a defense.

 

Panic flooded his body as about ten Hydra soldiers showed themselves, hurtling up the stairs to backup their leader. Each had a gun in hand, and they were all pointed at Mr. Wilson. He saw him tense at the sudden appearance of the soldiers and Peter felt the same tingle he had experienced earlier. With a sneaking suspicion he looked down to see that there was nothing to see. He blinked in confusion, thoughts racing a million miles a minute to try and understand why he had turned invisible again, but ultimately tried to ignore it. What these people had done to him was  _ wrong _ , but karma was a bitch.

 

"Now, Mr. Wilson, if you would be so kind as to move aside and return 005 then we will leave you unharmed and be on our merry way," Filip threatened, taking a step closer. Peter looked at Mr. Wilson, and though he couldn't really see his face, he could tell from the shortened breaths and the way his jaw was clenched that he was struggling to come up with a plan. Time for him to step in then.

 

Trying to use his new ability to his advantage, Peter looked around to find a good position. In just a few seconds he had crawled up the wall behind him and Mr. Wilson, walked onto the ceiling and made his way over to the soldiers. The whole time he held his breath, begging for the illusion to hold. If he was caught-well, he didn't really want to think about it. But, he had never had the best luck.

 

Another weird tingle prickled around his neck, similar to his Spidey Sense but yet somehow completely different. With a jolt he realized that his disguise had faded, and with it so did his rational thinking. He only had one shot at freedom and he was  _ not _ going to pass it up.

 

He dropped off of the ceiling and landed on one of the men's heads before anyone could even take a second to see him sitting above the posse. With a quick movement he hit one guy on the head, effectively knocking him out. His movement immediately delved the room into chaos. He heard gunshots as everyone scrambled to protect themselves as they realized what had just happened. Peter immediately moved on after knocking out the first guy, jumping back onto his feet and running at another man.

 

Everything was a surge of panic and confusion, but when he turned his head one thing stood out amidst the commotion. Peter saw a few last men, including Filip, cornering Mr. Wilson, whose weapons had been knocked out of his hands. Without a second thought he flung himself across the room, ramming a couple of the men closing in on Mr. Wilson over the railing, and leaping over to Filip. He didn't notice in his blind panic just how loud he was being and Filip turned to see a very angry spider teen coming at him.

 

Before he could react a gunshot went off and all that he felt was pain. He had felt a lot of pain in the past couple of weeks, but this still hurt like hell. Somehow he still managed to rip the gun from Filip and throw it off of the edge as Mr. Wilson kicked him hard. Filip followed the rest of his men and his gun as he swiftly plummeted.

 

He couldn't really take any of this in though. His brain had been doing him wonders, blocking out most of his panic and pain and replacing it with adrenaline, but it was starting to fade. Pain engulfed his left shoulder and Peter let out a pitiful cry, moving his hand to clutch at it. Dimly, Peter realized Mr. Wilson was speaking to him, obviously trying to comfort him.

 

"-ey kid, you did really good, okay? But I'm going to need you to stay with me for just a little bit longer, just until we get somewhere safe. You understand?" Mr. Wilson said, thinly masking his concern. Peter nodded and followed him, not aware of what was going around him at all, just trying to relieve the pain that was invading his arm.

 

It seemed like Peter blinked and suddenly he was walking out of one of the doors, leaning slightly on the Falcon. He blinked blearily, trying to rid himself of the overwhelming exhaustion. When he could finally make out his surroundings he realized that they were approaching two other people. He froze for a moment, confused as to why there were other people, but a nudge from Mr. Wilson made him trudge on. However, the people didn't make them wait.

 

They both rushed over to the injured boy and their friend, desperate to help. The brunette eyed them warily before he recognized them as Captain America and Black Widow. So three Avengers had rescued him. Honestly, Peter couldn't tell if he was lucky or not, it was getting kind of contradictory.

 

"You alright, Sam?" asked Black Widow as she slowed to a stop in front of them.

 

"I'm alright, Natasha. But Peter needs medical attention," Mr. Wilson responded.

 

"So you mentioned," said Captain America. Peter just looked on with a blank stare on his face, tired and confused, "Come on, son," he said, turning to Peter.

 

He tilted his head in confusion. Where were they going? Mr. Wilson had said that they were meeting at a rendezvous point, and logic would say that this was it, but wasn't there usually some kind of get away vehicle at the rendezvous point? His question was answered when Ms. Romanoff turned and pressed a button on her wrist.

 

Kind of like how he had earlier, the Quinjet appeared before their eyes. He barely had a moment to marvel at the kind of technology it would take for those kinds of retroreflective panels before he was being led on board by three of the Avengers.   
  



	5. The Call

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "-It's Natasha," his heart skipped a beat.
> 
>  
> 
> "Natasha? Wh-what-why are you calling me?!"
> 
>  
> 
> "Do you know a Peter Parker?"

Steve was at a bit of a loss at the moment, well, he was at an utter loss if he was being honest with himself. There was never really a dull moment when you invaded Hydra bases and you should really expect the unexpected. But he was still surprised to have a small teen leaning heavily on him, gently snoozing. Peter had taken a little while to fall asleep, obviously on edge(not that Steve blamed him, he couldn't imagine what he had gone through). Well, he had really more passed out than fell asleep. This was good for the kid, unfortunate for the Avengers however, as they had a host of questions for him that would remain unanswered for a while.

 

The real question though, was how they were going to get him back to his family. Judging from the kid's voice he was American(he could have sworn he recognized it somewhere) and Steve wasn't exactly welcomed there anymore. Plus, Sam had reported the kid could turn invisible and that Ivanov had said something about an experimentation. There was no way the kid could have a normal life anymore now that he had superpowers. All in all, they were going to get the kid to his family, there was just a host of obstacles that would prevent them from doing so.

 

Steve felt Peter shift next to him ever so slightly, letting out a deep breath. The man looked down at the kid who had snuggled up into his side and he moved so as to accommodate the clingy teen, curling his arm around him. When he looked back up Nat gave him a pointed look as she pulled her blonde hair into a low bun.

 

"What?" he asked.

 

"Nothing," she responded, "Just make sure you don't wake him up. He'd probably be confused to find himself hugging Captain America,"

 

Steve rolled his eyes at her teasing words.

 

"Have you tried reaching the number he gave us?" Steve asked, shifting the conversation. Before Peter had fallen asleep they had given him basic First Aid treatment to stop his bleeding. They had also asked him about his family. He had murmured out a phone number in response, passing out not moments later.

 

"Yes, but I didn't get a response. I'll try again when we get to Wakanda, as well as do some research on Peter. I called Shuri too, Peter's going to need to see a medical professional the moment we touch down,"

 

Steve nodded in approval and they settled into a comfortable silence. They all stayed like that until Sam struck up a conversation from the cockpit where he was piloting. The conversation kept a lighthearted tone but ended abruptly as Peter started wriggling from where he lay on Steve. It was clear from his pained murmurs and shortened breaths that the kid was having a nightmare and Steve felt his heart swell as the kid burrowed into him. After a couple of minutes he seemed to calm down and stilled again.

 

It was a couple of hours of smooth flying until they finally arrived at Wakanda. Natasha had moved up to the front of the plane to watch their entrance to the kingdom while Steve remained with Peter in the back. When they landed the back opened up almost immediately, letting the harsh light of the sunset flood in. Steve looked down at the kid and maneuvered him so that he was carrying him bridal style, surprisingly, Peter didn't even stir, just leaned against his chest.

 

Steve headed out of the Quinjet, not waiting for Sam or Natasha, just anxious to get Peter some help. When he stepped out he was met with the sight of T'Challa surrounded by the Dora Milaje, as well as Shuri, who was bouncing on her heels in anticipation. A look of shock passed the king's face when he saw Peter(he couldn't tell if it was because he didn't know they had a kid with them or because of how banged up said kid looked) before it morphed into a worried expression. Shuri was on him in an instant.

 

"Move your super-soldiered ass, Rogers!" Shuri commanded immediately, bolting past her brother to try and examine the small figure Steve held in his arms. He followed quickly after her, sparing a small glance at T'challa, Sam following with General Okoye and another guard escorting them to the princess' lab. "Can you not move any faster, Colonizer?"

 

"Patience Shuri," reprimanded Okoye, "We can't move the boy too fast. He'll be okay for a couple of extra minutes," Shuri grumbled in annoyance and shot an annoyed glare at the woman, but she heeded the advice and continued on her way, typing something onto her Kimoyo Beads.

 

When they got to the lab Shuri was beyond antsy, Steve could practically feel her impatience as she ordered him to place Peter down so she could examine him. She immediately went to examining his injuries, looking at multiple different holographic screens as the nurse scanned him. He and Sam hovered nearby until she noticed that they hadn't left yet.

 

"You two can go now. The child will be fixed by the time you're done reporting everything to my brother," she informed them snappily, giving them a confident smile. Steve smiled back and left after he and Sam gave a quick thanks.

 

* * *

 

 

She had been making good progress in the Parker boy's recovery, that is, until she discovered something highly unusual about him. She'd only been given reports on him being able to turn invisible, but from her scans and watching the wound she was trying to get a bullet out of, Shuri could tell that he had more powers than anyone had originally guessed. She was glad she realized this early on, if not he could have woken up while she was getting a bullet out of his arm because she wasn't using enough anesthesia, or the right kind.

 

Now that she had gotten his wounds patched up and had Eshe, the nurse, give him an IV she took the time to discover all she could about her new patient. She looked at what her scanner had recorded, and though it was highly advanced, it was not designed to determine superpowers. She'd have to work on making one like that. Still, she learned what she could, but otherwise pushed her curiosity down. Peter had been through a lot and she doubted he would be grateful to be tested on in the name of science.

 

* * *

 

 

After Natasha had changed from her battle gear into something more comfortable she immediately set into trying to contact whoever was on the other end of the phone number Peter had given her. She was also trying to figure out who it was, because they just weren't picking up. _You'd think,_ she thought in annoyance as the phone continued to ring, _that if you had lost a child you would pick up the damn phone._ The phone went to voicemail again, as it had every time she tried to call.

 

The spy blew a strand of her hair out of her face in exasperation, finally giving up on the phone. The kid might have given her the wrong number in his hazy state, so she'd have to do some good old fashioned investigating instead. Nat considered doing the research in the suite she, Steve, and Sam had been provided, but decided that she would get better information from Shuri's lab, provided the genius didn't mind her using it. The space would be useful both for the ridiculously advanced tech and the boy she was currently trying to investigate residing in it.

 

When Natasha got to the princess' lab she wasn't surprised to see Shuri inventing, or to see her teammates hovering around the lab nearby, or to see King T'Challa talking to Sam while looking over Peter with gentle concern. Said antsy bird was perched on a chair that wasn't more than 5 feet away from Pete. Steve was wandering around, though pacing more accurately described his actions. All four looked up when she made her way down into the spacious room. She offered them a nod and a small smile as a way of hello.

 

"Any luck?" asked Steve, halting in his pacing.

 

"No," he sighed, "-no one picked up the phone. Either that number is a phony, they're busy, or something has happened to them,"

 

"Well feel free to investigate with the tools in my lab," invited Shuri. Natasha nodded and gave her friend a thanks, walking over to one of the holo screens.

 

In no time at all Natasha had found a police report and a small bit of information on Peter Parker. Mysteriously, much of his records were kept under extreme lock and key. There was definitely something off about this kid, but the information she had managed to get was enough, enough to let her know just how bad the situation was for this kid.

 

One of the first things she had noticed was that his parents-Mary and Richard Parker-were listed as deceased, but after reading on she found that that wasn't new. It had happened when the kid was young, so Natasha didn't dwell on it for very long. What she needed was who the kid lived with _now_. The information was as easy to find as the report about his parents was, but it wasn't pleasant.

 

Peter had been living with his Aunt and Uncle-May and Ben Parker-for the past 11 years. Their family had, in the past year, dwindled down to just Peter and his Aunt, but now it was just Peter. When the Nat read that this kid had lost all of his guardians, she just had to know why. According to public record Ben Parker had died close to a year ago from a gunshot wound. May Parker had died only a couple of weeks ago, also from a gunshot wound, but under an entirely different circumstance.

 

It had been reported that the woman had been murdered, found dead in the apartment with a bullet wound through her head, and Natasha wanted to know why. Was it to get to Peter? And if so, why specifically him? Why not take his Aunt too?

 

But, looking over the information that she had compiled, she was hit with a bigger question. Where was this kid going to go? He had been experimented on, likely tortured, was dealing with new super powers. They couldn't just abandon him, leave him for the foster system, but it wasn't like he could really stay in Wakanda forever. She had no doubt that Peter was anxious to go home, somewhere familiar, even if there was no home to go home too.

 

The only thing that was helpful in the pile of shitty news was that she knew why nobody had picked up their phone when Natasha had called. May Parker couldn't pick up the phone if she was dead. It wasn't really a positive thing, but at least she didn't have to continue down that dead end. So now they were faced with a new dilemma; What were they going to do with this kid?

 

* * *

 

 

When Peter woke up he was immediately confused, then panicked. His surroundings were bright and unfamiliar, and it only took a few moments for its occupants to notice that he was awake. Mr. Wilson was the first to realize, tugging on the sleeve of another man that looked vaguely familiar to Peter. Said man offered him an encouraging smile, his hands behind his back in a regal stature.

 

"Hey kid, how ya feeling?" Mr. Wilson asked in a soft voice. Peter swallowed nervously a couple of times, trying to find his voice.

 

"O-okay. I'm doing okay," he choked out, his eyes darting around nervously. He lifted his hand to his neck subconsciously, a habit he had developed over the past couple weeks with Hydra, to discover that his collar was gone. The spot where it had been was sore but Peter felt more at ease than he had in a while with its removal.

 

He wanted to ask where he was, but the idea left him feeling anxious. He felt ridiculous for being afraid of an Avenger, but he couldn’t help it. Luckily, Mr. Wilson's friend seemed to understand he was confused.

 

"You are in Wakanda now, Peter. You're safety is ensured here," the man said. His voice was deep and calming and Peter felt himself trusting the man in front of him in spite of himself.

 

Wakanda? He was all the way in Wakanda? Suddenly it clicked in his head, he was talking to King T'Challa, who he'd technically already met before, not that anyone here knew that.

 

"Do you need anything, kid?" questioned Mr. Wilson.

 

"W-water," he responded timidly. Mr. Wilson gave him an encouraging nod and got up to go get him his request. As he disappeared around a corner into what looked like a lab, from what he could see, another familiar figure appeared. His eyes never strayed from her as she walked in and took up Mr. Wilson's seat.

 

"Hi Peter," said Ms. Romanoff, offering him a smile. Peter just squeaked out a 'hello' in response, unfamiliar to being greeted and ready to just go home to May and Mr. Stark, "Do you have another number I can call?"

 

Peter tilted his head and blinked at her in confusion. He vaguely remembered giving his Aunt's number to Ms. Romanoff before he passed out, to be honest everything was kind of blurry after he got on the Quinjet. Why would she need another number? Could she not reach May? Had something happened to her? Panic bubbled in his chest again, but Ms. Romanoff must have sensed his confusion, and his concern, because she launched into an explanation.

 

"I've tried calling your Aunt, but she won't pick up. Is there anyone else you could think of that I could call? A friend? Trusted adult?" she asked. T'Challa gave her a warning look, as if he didn't completely agree with her words. It put Peter on edge, and it took him a bit to think of who he could call. Just then Mr. Wilson walked back around the corner with a glass of water, closely followed by Captain America.

 

"Here kid," he said, passing him the cup. Peter took it gratefully and offered a thanks, but didn't drink it right away. Instead he turned back to Ms. Romanoff, not bothering to try and cover up his wariness as he answered her earlier question.

 

"Umm...(718) 443-3245. That one should work,"

 

"And that's your Aunt's?" she clarified, raising an eyebrow. Peter shook his head.

 

"No. He-he's a...friend," he grimaced at how unsure that sounded. Then again, he didn't particularly know what he considered Happy. Nobody questioned him, though suspected it was more out of pity than lack of suspicion or confusion. Peter took a sip of his water. It cooled his burning throat and he downed the rest of it greedily.

 

"Thank you, Peter," Ms. Romanoff said, rising from the chair and leaving the room abruptly. King T'Challa followed after her swiftly, excusing himself on behalf of royal business. Peter watched them go in silence.

 

Captain America took up the seat next, giving Peter a consoling look.

 

"Now, how are you _actually_ feeling?"

 

Peter flinched at the question. Apparently Mr. Rogers had not been fooled by his earlier answer. He swallowed thickly, confused about how to respond. How was he feeling?

 

"I-I guess just homesick," he responded, thinking longingly of curling up on the couch with May and watching her favorite show, Grey's Anatomy, “I just want to see my family,” Mr. Rogers nodded, though there was something tense about it.

 

"Yeah, we're working on it, kid," Mr. Wilson said from where he stood a few feet away, "But at the moment we really need to get you taken care of,"

 

"Sam's right, son. You need food, a shower probably, and more rest,"

 

"Ok," he responded timidly, his voice breaking.

 

"In fact we should probably get those done now," encouraged Mr. Wilson, "Might as well do something beneficial while we wait for Natasha to contact your friend,"

 

Mr. Rogers nodded in agreement at Mr. Wilson's words, adding his own advice. It reminded Peter of the PSA videos and he had the urge to laugh, but it got caught in his throat, feeling foreign to him. Instead he simply said, "Okay, Mr. Wilson,"

 

Suddenly both Mr. Rogers and Mr. Wilson were laughing at...something?

 

"Mr. Wilson, huh? You can just call me Sam, kid,"

 

* * *

 

 

 

When Happy walked into the lab he wasn't surprised to find Tony there, he had expected it really. It wasn't like Tony had really left the lab since the discovery of Peter's abduction a couple of weeks ago. What was slightly more surprising was that Rhodey was there, and from what he could hear, neither was very pleased with the either.

 

"Tones, you _need_ to sleep," Tony looked away from Rhodey pointedly, "You've been at this for weeks, it'd be-"

 

" _Exactly_ , Rhodes," Tony interjected, giving Rhodey a heated glare, "I've been at this for weeks and no progress has been made!"

 

Even from where Happy stood in the doorway he could see the rage, _the grief_ , on his face. The panic and the lack of air that Tony was taking in at the moment. And he understood, they all did. The fear that they had lost Peter was strong and infectious. But Tony was going to kill himself if they couldn't get him to eat or sleep soon.

 

"At least eat something, Tones,"

 

"No,"

 

Rhodey sighed, looking utterly defeated. He looked up to find Happy standing in the doorway and simply gave him a shrug and a shake of the head. Happy sighed as well. He was just about to say something, something to try and help convince Tony to eat or sleep when his phone rang in his pocket. Happy excused himself and walked completely out of the lab doorway. He took a glance at the phone number to find he didn't recognize it, but that was a regular occurrence, so he hit call and pressed the phone against his ear.

 

"Happy Hogan," he answered. A sharp intake of breath on the other end of the line met his ears, which made his brow wrinkle in confusion. "Hello? Who is this?" he asked sharply, not in the mood for some prank call or something else similarly ridiculous.

 

"Happy?" whispered a feminine voice on the phone, one he was sure he recognized.

 

"Yes, that's me. Who is-"

 

"-It's Natasha," his heart skipped a beat.

 

"Natasha? Wh-what-why are you calling me?!"

 

"Do you know a Peter Parker?"

 

Happy felt like he was going to die of shock. This had to dream, there was _no way_ that Natasha had just happened to find Peter after they had spent two and a half weeks looking for him. He rushed to answer anyway, afraid that if he didn't that Peter would somehow disappear again.

 

"Y-yes! Oh my God, yes! Do you have him!? Is he alright?! Can I-"

 

"Happy, will you please calm down? We-Steve, Sam, and I-have him, he's bruised and tired, but he's alive,"

 

He let out a sigh of relief, feeling as though he could cry. Peter was _alive_.

 

"Wh-where was he?" he asked her tentatively.

 

"He was," she hesitated for a moment, "He was being experimented on in a Hydra base,"

 

 _Jesus._ Experimentation? What had that poor kid gone through?

 

"Thank you, thank you so much, Natasha,"

 

"No need for any thanks. But how do you even know this kid?"

 

Happy blew out a breath. That was going to be hard to answer.

 

"Well, mostly I know him through Tony," he answered hesitantly.

 

"Through Tony?"

 

"Yeah," he confirmed, "Where is he?" If Natasha sensed his deliberate change in the conversation she didn't mention it.

 

"We're all in Wakanda at the moment. He got shot while we were getting him out of the base, but he's healed now. All he's said is that he wants to go home,"

 

"Okay, Wakanda. Gotcha. Can we-can we come to get him now?"

 

"I'll have to ask T'Challa first, but I'm sure he'll agree. I'll text you when I get an answer, I need to go find him first,"

 

"Yeah, yeah-I'll talk to you later,"

 

She hung up without a goodbye and Happy let out another sigh, tears threatening to spill from his eyes. Peter had been found, and they were going to see him soon. He needed to tell Tony. WIthout a second though he raced to the lab, feeling numb in his legs from shock.

 

* * *

 

His vision was blurring and his ears were ringing, but he still refused to take a rest, not even at Rhodey's insistence. He didn't deserve to rest, not while Peter could be dead. Could be hurt, cold, alone, beaten within an inch of his life-

 

"Boss!"

 

Tony whipped his head from his workstation to stare at Happy who had barged into the lab. He looked happier than he had been(than anyone had been really) in weeks. Before he or Rhodey could ask Happy had already shouted it out.

 

"We've found him. We've found him, Boss,"

 

It flew right over his head. They had found him? It took a couple of seconds before pure euphoria overtook him. Oh my God, they had found him! Thoughts jumbled in his mind, crashing against his teeth and weighing down on his tongue until all he could say was, "What?"

 

"Peter. He's-Steve found him,"

 

Steve? Tony stared, wide eyed, at Happy. Steve had found Peter? Where had he been? Where was he now?

 

"Where is he?" asked Rhodey, voicing what Tony was too shocked to say himself.

 

"Wakanda,"

 

If that was where Peter was, that was where he would be too. He would never leave his kid alone again.

 

"Fire up the Quinjet,"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my god testing has been so terrible I wanna cry. Also, don't try and click the number I put there, it's literally just random digits, but on the off chance it is an actual person, don't call them.


	6. The Flinching

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The sight that greeted him when he landed in Wakanda was the best and worst thing he had ever seen.
> 
>  
> 
> Just 15 feet away from him was Peter, his Peter, yet he was nothing like the cheery kid he had known a few weeks ago.

The distant noise of low humming was picked up again by Peter's sensitive ears. He had been listening to it for a while now, counting the number of times it had passed by. So far it had gone by five times and he was on the verge of asking Princess Shuri what it was. She was, however, intently focused on some project that she had hardly looked up from. He knew from experience that being distracted from working on an interesting project was basically just the worst, so he left her to continue tinkering. That was until she let out a huge sigh and leaned dramatically against her chair to look at him.

 

"Colonizer, do you just not talk? I mean, I get that you've just been rescued from...somewhere--my idiotic brother says its confidential--but surely you can talk!"

 

Peter blinked a couple times, shocked at her forwardness and that she was talking to him so easily, not as if he were a wounded animal. It took him a moment to actually come up with a response, but he smiled all the same. It felt foreign if he was being honest.

 

"Y-yeah, I-I-I can talk," he responded, wincing at his stuttering and looking just past her head. He figured it would be hard to break the habit of not making eye contact that had been enforced at Hydra. Princess Shuri narrowed her eyes at him, giving him a playful grin.

 

"I don't know if saying you can talk means you can actually talk, colonizer," she smiled, swiveling her chair towards him. Peter's small grin grew fractionally wider. It felt so good--so wonderful beyond belief--to be talked to like a  _ normal person _ that he felt himself getting lost in the conversation.

 

"I-If I talked more, w-would it be considered that I can actually talk?"

 

"Possibly," she teased, "Can you talk about more than being  _ able _ to talk?"

 

"I'm mostly just limited to science and Star Wars, so it doesn't get much better,"

 

The princess' eyes lit up at that.

 

"Science?"

 

He nodded.

 

"Sounds like a good conversation to me, colonizer. Any particular subject?"

 

"Engineering and chemistry are my favorites,"

 

"Oooh, I'm quite attached to engineering as well. In fact, I'm working on a new prototype from my brother's armor. Do you want to see it?"

 

Peter's eyes lit up in excitement. Look at the Black Panther armor? Work with vibranium? How was this even a question!?

 

"Hell yes!"

 

"I'm afraid you'll have to wait, Peter," cut in a new voice, this one much deeper than his or Princess Shuri's. Peter turned around in his seat to see Mr. Rogers(or Steve, he guessed, since he had told him to just call him by his first name) standing on the stairs that led out of the lab. He looked strange, almost unrecognizable as Captain America, with his beard and wearing a very casual t-shirt and jeans instead of the battle gear he had worn when he was invading the Hydra base. "I need to talk to you for just a minute, kid,"

 

"Yes sir," he said nervously, getting out of his chair and hastily speed walking towards Mr. Rogers. He gave Princess Shuri a quick wave goodbye as she turned back to her work station, her shoulders slumped in the slightest hint of disappointment.

 

"No need for 'sir,' kid," Mr. Rogers replied.

 

After they left the lab they walked in silence for a few minutes, eventually arriving at a bridge walkway thing. Tension was clear in Mr. Rogers demeanor, he could tell by the tightness of his walk and the way his shoulders were scrunched. However Peter found himself almost forgetting Mr. Roger's tenseness in favor of looking out over Wakanda. His jaw dropped at the technological hub that the city was. This was the first time he was seeing it since he had only been in the Princess' lab and one of the bathrooms when he had taken a shower.

 

"May would love this place," he said, thinking fondly of his aunt and how much he missed her. How long would he have to wait to see her again? He hoped it wasn't too long, he was sure she was a nervous wreck in his absence. For some reason, Mr. Rogers flinched at his comment and Peter instinctively took a step back at the sudden movement, thinking he had done something wrong. Just as he was racking his brain for what it could possibly be, Mr. Rogers sighed.

 

"Peter...there-your-you," he blew out a stressed sigh,"You might want to sit down for this, kid,"

 

He led Peter over to a bench and he sat down apprehensively next to the Super Soldier. He was really racking his brain now. Captain America was definitely worried about something, and if he had to sit down for it, it probably wasn't great. Things hadn't been great for the past couple of weeks, but still. His stomach was churning and his heart picked up in its pace, what else had happened?

 

"Peter...your Aunt, she's gone,"

 

Peter felt as though his soul had left his body. Aunt May...gone? But...that couldn't have happened, shouldn't have! She didn't get captured, she was in the apartment, she was safe! She was waiting for him to come home, waiting to give him a hug when he saw her again! Right?

 

"No, she-can't be! She isn't!" he protested, looking at Mr. Rogers, feeling a spark of fury at the pity in his eyes.

 

"She died kid, a couple of weeks ago," he said softly, leaning forward.

 

"How do you know?!" he asked, stuck in a rage. He felt tears prick his eyes, but paid them no mind.

 

"Natasha uncovered the police report. I'm sorry Peter, but she's really gone,"

 

Everything felt strangely blank as the anger faded away, it felt as though it should be crushing, or that the world should be crumbling around him. Yet, he didn't feel anything. The only thing that he could think was that his Aunt was gone, and that he was alone.

 

"Peter. Hey, kid, it's okay. You're going to be fine," Mr. Rogers reassured, reentering his line of vision. He put an arm on his shoulder--meant to be a comforting gesture--but Peter flinched away from the contact. He didn't want to be touched. He wanted May! He  _ needed _ May! What was he going to do without her?

 

It took Peter a moment to realize that he was crying. Tears leaked down his cheeks in continuous streams as a sob tore through his throat. He didn't take notice that Mr. Rogers was speaking to him, but at this point he didn't care, he just wanted his Aunt.

 

He sat on that bench with Mr. Rogers for what must have been hours, if the setting sun gave any indication, just crying with sobs wracking his small frame, unconsciously switching between visibility and invisibility. By then Mr. Wilson and Ms. Romanoff had joined them on the bench, trying to provide their own sense of comfort. He didn't acknowledge their presence, he just closed in on himself, wrapping into a ball and refusing to look anyone in the eye. He wasn't supposed to do that anyway. Then Ms. Romanoff's phone rang, filling the silence that had once been filled with his cries.

 

"They're here," she said, peering over his head to make eye contact with Steve after her rather short conversation on the phone.

 

"Come on, kid," said Mr. Wilson, standing up and extending a hand. Peter took it almost robotically, allowing himself to be pulled up.

 

"Who's here?" he asked, his voice small and hoarse, laced with the most polite curiosity he could muster. Ms. Romanoff's mouth quirked upwards just the slightest bit, adding to his confusion.

 

"Your  _ friend, _ "

 

* * *

 

 

 

Once Tony had heard the news that Peter was found, and that he was in Wakanda, he was immediately ready to leave. He didn't wait for any kind of clearance, didn't put much thought behind it, just wanted to see his kid. It was probably a good thing that Rhodey and Happy were there.

 

"Tony you don't have clearance to enter Wakanda," Rhodey warned him as they marched towards the Quinjet.

 

"I don't care. I'm going to get Peter," he snapped back.

 

"They have barriers, boss. Natasha's getting clearance for us at the moment, but it could take a while," Happy interjected, rushing to keep up with his quick pace.

 

"Well the flight takes a while. By the time we get there we should be allowed in,"

 

"Tones! Just-stay still for a second,  _ please _ ," Rhodey pleaded. At his desperate tone, he stilled just outside the entrance to the Quinjet. Rhodey finally caught up with him, having been hindered by his leg braces, "Just take a few minutes to put yourself together before rushing into anything--no don't interrupt me--Peter is going to need you. But he needs you to be  _ able _ to help him,"

 

"I'm perfectly fine," Tony insisted, cutting across Rhodey's little life lesson. He heard a grunt of disbelief from behind him. The billionaire shot Happy an annoyed glare before turning back to Rhodey, who was now standing determinedly between him and the Quinjet

 

"No, you're not. None of us are if we're being honest. But you need food, the flight to Wakanda is long. So we're going to get some food from the kitchens- _ you  _ are taking a shower-and  _ then _ we'll get on the Quinjet and blast off to get Peter,"

 

Tony humphed, but could tell that he wasn't going to get anywhere by continuing to argue. That would just keep him away from Peter even longer.

 

"Fine, but we're leaving the moment I'm out of the shower," he turned on Happy, "And you're going to tell me all you found out from your chat with Natasha,"

 

That had been a few hours ago, and now Tony was sitting on the Quinjet, flying towards Wakanda. Rhodey had been piloting, but had eventually just set it to autopilot as the hours dragged by. By this point his hair had dried from the record breaking quick shower he had been forced to take and Happy had explained what he had learned about Peter. He felt like he was going to throw up the pizza Rhodey had forced him to eat.

 

His poor kid had been experimented on, he had been stuck in a Hydra base, poked and prodded to their hearts' delight, all because Tony couldn't protect him. He  _ should've  _ known, he  _ should've _ kept Peter safe. But he hadn't, he had let him down. Had let May down too because she was dead and her nephew had been in some of the worst danger ever. He bet she would slap him for his carelessness if she could. He sighed and rubbed his eyes with his hand, pulling it away when it started shaking.

 

Rhodey noticed his distress and put a hand on his shoulder, rubbing his back in comfort. No words were spoken, they didn't need to be. Rhodey continued to ground him, wordlessly letting him know that the kid he had come to see as his son was going to be okay. Because he would be, Tony was going to make sure of it.

 

"10 minutes to the border of Wakanda, boss," Friday alerted them, "Should I notify King T'Challa and confirm entry?"

 

"Yes, Friday. Go ahead," she made a little 'ding' in response and the Quinjet was plunged back into silence. Those 10 minutes felt as though they were the longest in his entire life. He needed to see Peter  _ now. _ Needed to hug him, let him know he was safe, that nothing like this would ever happen again. Fortunately, King T'Challa responded quickly and their entrance to Wakanda included no hold ups. By that point Rhodey had taken the pilot's seat back up, Tony following suit in the copilot seat.

 

It would've been fascinating, watching the illusion fall as they entered, changing from a dense forest into the hidden technologically advanced country, under different circumstances. Instead, he stared hard, trying to catch a glimpse of Peter. He knew it was nearly impossible, they weren't even at the castle yet. He kept looking though, not wanting to miss another moment of Peter. And eventually, he saw him.

 

They were nearing the southern side of the palace when he saw a group of people gathered by a landing pad connected to the castle. From the bright red of a few of them he could tell they were the Dora Milaje, but the others were dressed in darker colors that were hard to distinguish from so high above them. However, when Rhodey set the Quinjet into a descent, he no longer had to wonder who these informal looking figures were. He immediately zeroed in on Peter, ignoring the Rogue Avengers in favor of the boy who had wormed into his heart.

 

Unfortunately, the Quinjet turned in order to make a proper landing and Peter disappeared from his sight. It sent Tony into a bit of a frenzy and the moment they touched down he rushed out of his seat, tripping over his feet in his haste to have his kid in his line of sight again. The door, however, got in his way, forcing him to slow down while it opened up. By the time the ramp had lowered Happy and Rhodey had caught up with him, standing beside him at the exit. The sight that greeted him was the best and worst thing he had ever seen.

 

Just 15 feet away from him was Peter,  _ his Peter _ , yet he was far from okay. He was shaking, quivering like a leaf, almost cowering in on himself, which only highlighted how thin he had gotten. The clothes on him weren't skin tight, but he could see the change in Peter's physique, his arms and legs skinnier, the muscle still there but much more wiry, the clothes hanging off of him loosely. Faded bruises littered the skin he could see, which was weird because the kid almost never had bruises he healed so fast. Yet all of that didn't even come close to his eyes. They were indescribably broken and vacant. Once sparkling with boundless excitement and youth they were now dull and pained.

 

The Rogue Avengers, the Dora Milaje, and King T'Challa surrounded him, but Tony ignored them all in favor of rushing down the ramp and darting over to Peter. He supposed that he should've known that such a sudden movement would have scared the kid, and he cursed himself for it when Peter flinched. But it goes beyond that, Peter turns  _ invisible _ , disappearing and leaving Tony staring in shock. But before he can even get a word out Steve speaks up.

 

"Hey Tony," he greeted softly, moving forward to offer a handshake, though they can both tell even  _ that _ is pushing it. Tony pulled his eyes away from where Peter was still standing--though invisible--to glare at Steve instead. He eyed the extended hand dubiously for a few seconds before he reluctantly extended his own and shook it.

 

"Rogers," he responded steelily, turning away quickly and making eye contact with T'Challa. He gave him a small nod as well as a 'Your Highness' but ultimately goes back ignoring everyone in favor of attending to Peter. Rhodey and Happy would handle them, his kid needed him.

 

When he looked back he realizes that Peter is now visible again, but he doesn't look Tony in the eye, doesn't even look up. Instead, his head continues to be hung slightly, eyes fixated on Tony’s chest.

 

"Hey Peter," he whispered gently, keeping his tone light and reassuring, "It's okay, bud. It's over now, okay? I'm here to take you home," he continues, and  _ finally  _ Peter looks at him. He doesn't look surprised, or confused, or happy, he just looks,  _ broken _ . His heart shatters into a thousand different pieces at the sight.

 

"Mr. Stark?" Peter asked tentatively, though he doesn't move towards his mentor. Tony smiles encouragingly, trying to make his posture unthreatening and open.

 

"Yeah, buddy. I'm here,"

 

"Mr. Stark?" he said again, tears forming at the corners of his eyes, and Tony recognized that he's trying to say something, but for whatever reason it's stuck in his throat.

 

"What is it, Pete?" he prompted soothingly, hoping to get the kid to say whatever's on his mind.

 

"A-A-Aunt May? Sh-she's..." Peter is unable to finish the rest of the sentence, but by the way that a sob racked through the kid's body, he already knows what he was going to say.

 

"I know, kid," he said, swallowing, "She's gone, kiddo. I'm so sorry,"

 

And Peter breaks down, sobbing loudly and stumbling back, as though he had been struck. Sam immediately reached out to steady him, but Peter flinched away hard, falling onto Tony in his haste to not be touched. The man instinctively wrapped his arms around Peter, freezing when Peter flinched at the contact. But after a moment--a painstakingly tense moment--he leans into Tony, melting into the embrace, hiccuping and sobbing into his chest. Tony sighed gratefully, hesitantly lifting his hand and placing it on his head. Peter leans into it and so he runs his hand through his curls, making circular motions and whispering sweet nothings of reassurance. He doesn't know how long they stay there, but it hardly matters. All that really matters is that he has his kid.

 

"Tony," he looked to his right to see Rhodey, "We've got to get him home,"

 

"I know, Rhodes. Just give me a minute," Rhodey nodded, shifting his concerned gaze to Peter.

 

By then Peter has stopped crying, his sobs quieter and dry. Tony gave him an encouraging squeeze, and reluctantly untangled himself from his kid. Peter let out a small whine, though it doesn't escape Tony how he immediately stifled it. He kept an arm draped over Peter's shoulder as he turned to the Rogue Avengers and King T'Challa.

 

"Thank you," he said breathlessly, glancing at his former friends but settling on looking at T’Challa.

 

"We're just glad he is safe," T'Challa responded. Tony nodded in gratitude, and gave another thank you to everyone there. A thank you for finding his kid, for keeping him safe, for returning him to Tony.

 

The departure is quick, as Peter seemed as though he is about to collapse from exhaustion. Tony desperately wants to carry him on, just to keep the kid from hurting himself, but all the times the kid had flinched away from being touched replayed in his mind and he refrained from it. Instead he settled with walking right next to him, steadying him if he needed it and making sure he got into the Quinjet without any problems.

 

When finally everyone is sitting down Rhodey starts the Quinjet back up and they take off, heading towards a designated exit point. Happy is sitting in the same seat he was in earlier, making a phone call that sounds like it's with Pepper, though he can't be sure. Peter is sitting next to him, sitting unnaturally straight yet looking like a strong wind would blow him over. Tony wanted so badly to reach out to him, to hug him again, but he didn't know how Peter would react.

 

If he had hugged him just a few weeks ago he knew Peter would absolutely melt into the embrace, he was a very physical person, usually seeking assurance in touch, but he had flinched away earlier. Flinched, as though he were scared of Tony, and if he now hated Tony, maybe feared him, then he wouldn't touch him. But, he would never leave the kid alone again, he would always be safe, he just wish Peter knew that. It had been a few minutes, and Tony still couldn't make up his mind about trying to hug the kid, torn between whether or not the kid would welcome him, when he spoke up.

 

"Wh-where am I g-g-going to go?"

 

His voice was small and defeated, and he hated it. Hated how his stutter had gotten worse. Hated how Peter looked so scared at the idea of asking a question, of the answer. Hated how he looked anywhere but Tony's face, he  _ hated _ what Hydra had done to his kid.

 

Tony swallowed nervously, wanting beyond belief to tell the kid that he could go back to his Aunt, that his family was still alive. Instead he said "You're going to stay with me, Pete,"

 

Peter looked up at him in shock, his head snapping from the floor and turning to his mentor.

 

"Y-you? I-I'm staying with-"

 

"-Me," he finished for Peter, "Kid, I-I know I'm not your Aunt, but I'm here for you, okay? I'm not going to let anything else happen to you, I promise,"

 

Tears formed in Peter's eyes again, making them glossy, as he stared at Tony's chest, still avoiding eye contact, and he couldn't help it anymore. He reached out with his hand, letting it come to a rest on Peter's shoulder. The kid flinched again and he immediately recoiled, bringing his hand back to his side.

 

"No-" Peter protested, "I-I-"

 

And Tony finally understood, recognition filling his eyes. Peter was no longer used to being touched in a friendly way. He didn't hate Tony(even though he should, after all, he had let this happen to his kid), didn't fear him, it was involuntary, and he didn't know if that was worse or not.

 

"Oh, kid," he gushed, pouring as much love as he could into those two words as he leaned closer to Peter and pulled him into a hug. He flinched again, but immediately wrapped his arms back around Tony, pressing his face into the crook of his neck. It felt like the most natural thing in the world, as though they were always meant to be father and son.

 

He planted a gentle kiss on Peter's cheek after a few moments of hesitance and ran his hand through his soft curls, "I've got you, kid. I've got you,"

 

“Mr. Stark,” he choked out, obviously overwhelmed.

 

He just shushed him gently, rocking him as he held his kid in his arms at last.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much everyone for the positivity and encouragement I received while writing this story! All your comments meant so much to me and I honestly almost cried while reading some of them. I get really anxious about putting things as personal as stories out and the support I got has really helped me through this anxiety. I love you all!!! Also very sorry for the late update!
> 
> P.S.
> 
> I think this will become part of a series, but we'll see.


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